Don't You Know That It's All Over?
by Slytheriness
Summary: 2000 film. Simon and Peter try to cope in the aftermath of the crucifixion, and wonder where Judas is.


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Don't you know that it's all over?**

**slytheriness**

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He watched Peter.

He was staring into space, away from the others. Even Mary had walked away after getting no response from the motionless man. He could have been a leper for the way they acted, and Simon wanted to scream at them all that they would have done the same thing, they would have betrayed him to save themselves. He would have. He wanted to scream in general at the unfairness of it all, to grab a weapon and find some Roman guards. He knew it would be suicidal; he was past caring. But he stayed where he was and remembered softly spoken words- _put away your swords._ A niggling voice inside whispered that if he'd listened right from the start this wouldn't have happened; if he hadn't been so desperate to drag them all into war. Judas was probably right after all, and to even think those words was a huge step.

Judas. He wanted to hate him so very much. But as he watched Peter's silent vigil and the guilt whirled in his own heart, it felt too hypocritical. Who was he to say whether Judas had meant to betray him or not? Peter hadn't meant to. Had sworn he wouldn't.

His eyes shifted upwards just in time to catch Peter's form moving quietly away into the darkness. When he stood up, he told himself it was just to get the feeling back in his legs. But after peering in Peter's general direction for a few minutes, hopping from one pins-and-needled foot to another, he moved to follow him.

The night was reaching its height, the half-moon providing the palest of light. He had no idea which way Pete had gone, kept walking straight out of instinct. If nothing else, this path would take him to the bridge and he'd have some time to clear his head a little. It didn't take long to reach the open space, and he felt more than saw the bridge opening up into the darkness by the rush of breeze from the open space. He shivered a little, the sucking depth and quiet breeze oppressive. Leaning his hands on the cold rail, a ghostly whiteness flickered in the darkness further along. His eyes widened, though he swore he didn't believe in spirits. They widened more when seconds later he realised what it was- the white of Peter's top. And it was high, over the rails, frozen.

He was torn between calling out or trying to grab him- either which could startle him, and Simon was positive he couldn't hold the larger man's weight. The thought of losing another friend clenched his stomach and still he was indecisive. Finally, he stepped forward, and at the first footfall Peter's head turned. "Simon?"

He relaxed slightly, and came forward to peer up. "How'd you know?"

"Those blonde spikes are pretty reflective."

"Oh." His hand came up to ruffle them self-consciously, embarrassed that he had remembered to gel his hair that morning even after…everything.

"You gonna come down from there Pete?" he tried to keep his tone even, but the slightest hint of fear was there. Peter kept looking out into the empty space, and stayed silent for a long moment, while Simon nervously rubbed his arms to capture some warmth.

"It would be so easy, Simon. And it's a mortal sin. I'd go straight to hell. Everything here's gone so wrong, and… it'd just be so easy." There might have been the sound of a sigh mingled in with the breeze, and the arm holding the upright metal spar he leant against trembled a little. "There's nothing left here."

"We tried easy Pete. It was easy to gather supporters. It was easy to start fights with the Romans. Look where easy got us." He laughed, more bitterly that Peter would have supposed the young man could. "Is there really… nothing left?" He knew the tone of his voice was odd, but he was cold and so, so tired, inside and out. When Peter didn't answer, he sank to the floor, leaning his back on the bridge railings, knees gathered up to his chest. He heard a gentle thud, and Peter appeared beside him, slid a warm arm around his slender shoulders. He shivered, and moved into the touch; just sat. Eventually he moved an arm around the waist next to him, and moved his head onto the shoulder. He felt a hand ruffle his spikes, and then heard Peter mutter 'Your damn hair's tickling scratching my neck.' But neither moved away.

When a light appeared at the far end of the bridge, then they moved, quickly and guiltily as if caught doing something wrong. A woman in black came closer, and held the torch up to their faces one at a time.

'You're not planning on killing yourselves I hope?'

They exchanged glances, Simon's half-questioning and Peter's placid. "No."

The woman nodded curtly. "Good. We had enough bother last night." She was clearly desperate to gossip, and Simon indulged her in the hopes she'd keep walking.

"Right- what happened last night?" She drew them both in closer, as if to divulge a secret. She grabbed his arm, icy fingers making the hairs stand on end.

"Crazy guy. Screaming stuff at the sky, throwing silver around, then – glruh" She mimed a gruesome neck-snapping. "-jumped with a rope round his neck". Simon raised his eyebrows to indicate his surprise, and Peter smiled in a way that suggested the conversation was over. The woman shifted back slightly, expression twisted in thought. "What was his name- someone said-"

Pete smiled at her, and looked meaningfully at Simon. "Well anyway-" Simon smiled, pulled away as tactfully as possible and grabbed Pete's arm to walk away. They got a few paces before she called out again. "Judas!" Simon snapped his head around, all forgiving thoughts from earlier over-ruled by a wave of anger. He saw Pete do the same, eyes scanning the darkness behind them, brow creased, and the woman laughed softly drawing back their attention.

"The one who jumped. That was his name." She nodded in a satisfied way and, swinging the torch beam back onto her original path, resumed walking. The two men remained frozen behind her.

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